symbiosis
by halcyon calamity
Summary: pre-Goblet of Fire. Nikolina Karavelov was one of those girls that you had to say her full name - all bloody eight syllables of it - because the snobbishness of it reflected what she really was. You didn't call her Nikolina, or Merlin forbid, Nikki, unless you had some sort of death wish.


**title: **symbiosis

**pairing: **Viktor Krum/OC

**universe: **pre-canon/pre-Goblet of Fire

**prompts: **"True champions aren't always the ones that win, but those with the most guts" -Mia Hamm, "This is harder than I thought it would be", _My Immortal _by Evanescence

* * *

**symbiosis** /ˌsimbēˈōsis/ (_noun_): a mutually beneficial relationship between two people.

* * *

"Mr. Krum!"

Sleep was beckoning, softly and sweetly, but he opened his drooping eyes anyway. Professor Ellestad's exasperated face came into view as he tried to blink away the drowsiness.

"Stay after class," the middle-aged man commanded before turning back to the chalkboard. A few people in his class tittered, and he thought he heard a distinct lady-like snort as well.

Viktor sighed as he looked down at the parchment - blank, despite the fact that they were supposed to be taking thorough notes for the exam next week. He really had to start paying attention in class, but the truth of the matter was he'd been up half the night going over Quidditch plays for the team. As a fifth-year, he was the youngest captain to ever grace the halls of Durmstrang, and it was crucial he played well this year so that recruiters would take notice. His priorities were a little skewed, that was all.

"Mr. Krum," Professor Ellestad beckoned as the other students filtered out of the classroom. Viktor trudged up to the large desk in front of the classroom, rather unwillingly.

"I understand that Quidditch is a very time-consuming sport," the teacher began, looking at his student sympathetically, "but I do hope you will keep it from interfering with your studies. Your O.W.L.s will be occurring this year and Dark Arts is known to be one of the harder courses in the curriculum."

Viktor nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Ellestad looked at him intently, a thoughtful expression beginning to appear on his face. "If the class is getting too difficult for you to maintain your grades, I would suggest you find a tutor to help you. I'm sure Miss Karavelov would happy to assist. Her marks in my class are stellar."

Although he nodded at the professor, internally he was rolling his eyes. _Nikolina Karavelov? Assist somebody? Ludicrous. _She was, after all, the pureblood princess of the castle, half-English and half-Bulgarian, and the most cold and conniving girl he had ever had the displeasure of meeting. The closeness of their surnames in the alphabet meant they had been often been paired in different classes, but she preferred to do all the work - not that he complained of course - and never did she really acknowledge him outside of a few terse phrases.

Nikolina Karavelov was one of those girls that you _had _to say her full name - all bloody eight syllables of it - because the snobbishness of it reflected what she really was. You didn't call her Nikolina, or Merlin forbid, _Nikki_, unless you had some sort of death wish.

Death by the claws of her little posse. How quaint.

Later, as he entered Central Hall for dinner, their eyes met briefly. Her gaze passed over him as if he didn't exist at all.

Ask her to tutor him? As if _that_ was happening.

* * *

It was only early November, but in their region of northern Europe, the snow would be falling any day now. Viktor trained his team relentlessly, and as much as they complained, he was assured they would emerge as the champions this year.

He had only just started practice when one of his Beaters whistled loudly at a group of girls that were standing near the castle doors, watching them fly. Upon closer inspection, Viktor realized it was Nikolina Karavelov and three of her little gang. They had to be freezing, standing in their skirts and robes. Karavelov's friends were giggling and talking to each other, but the leader herself was staring intently at the players.

Staring intently at _him._

This time, when his eyes caught hers, she gave him a small smirk before turning on her heel and leaving the grounds.

* * *

"I wonder if she's seeing anyone," Krum heard in the locker room just a few days later. "There isn't a guy who wouldn't want to hit that."

"You're an idiot," one of his other teammates retorted. "Nikolina Karavelov doesn't date at Durmstrang because she's out of everyone's league. Didn't you hear? Over the summer she stayed in England and was dating Nathan Pucey. You know, one of those hotshot English purebloods."

"I didn't say anything about dating," the other guy replied devilishly. At that, the other boys in the locker room laughed.

"Let's go!" Viktor called out, grabbing his gear. He didn't want to hear any more.

* * *

He was an unsuspecting _victim_, he had to insist to his teammates just the very next day. It had happened spontaneously, without warning, and he still had no idea what was going on.

Because Nikolina Karavelov had randomly kissed him in the middle of the hallway.

He had been unresponsive because of the shock. It was the first time he had even kissed a girl, for Merlin's sake, and he hadn't even seen it coming.

He didn't push her away, though.

Instead, she had pulled back after a few fleeting moments, before leaning forward and breathing into his ear to pick her up at 7 in front of the dorms, then casually walking away as if no one was gaping at the spectacle.

While his Chasers groaned about how lucky he was and the Beaters almost looked like they were about to murder him, Viktor couldn't help but think he was in for the long haul.

* * *

He didn't know why, but she liked keeping him around. The term ended and Christmas passed and it was the new year, 1993, and yet Viktor was still sitting at her right side during meal times, still taking her on dates to the nearby village, and had even managed to ask her for help with his classes.

Rumors died as weeks passed and people started to speculate that Nikolina maybekindofsortof _actually cared about him. _He never dared to ask her, because he knew the answer anyway. Love was preposterous, completely out of the question. He was a toy, a plaything, but she knew he knew that.

When he asked her what he should call her - because Nikolina Karavelov really was a mouthful - she rolled her eyes and said her first name was just fine.

Their relationship consisted of tutoring sessions and feathery touches and a lot of silence. But he was never that calloused, never so insensitive, and so he let things slip to her that he had never told anyone else - his dream to play for Bulgaria at the World Cup, his discomfort with the Dark Arts, his worries for the next Quidditch game. He expected her to laugh at him, and she did. Cruelly.

But she listened, anyway.

Soon spring came and his team won the championship and seemingly out of nowhere, recruiters were flocking to him like moths to a light. Everyone wanted a piece of him, and suddenly he was faced with more choices that ever before. If he played for one team, he would have a starting position; on another, he'd be relegated to the reserve team until the current Seeker retired. Maybe, he thought to himself, he wasn't ready for the big leagues yet. Staying at Durmstrang meant he could spend more time cultivating himself and his team, while he developed the maturity he needed.

Staying meant Nikolina.

He shared his doubts and she told him he was stupid.

"Playing Quidditch is practically all you talk about," she said, annoyed. "And I have to put up it. And now you're thinking about turning their offers down? You're so cocky, thinking that they'll accept you back with open arms two years from now! Cut the bullshit, Krum. Just play Quidditch. The Vrasta Vultures need you more than _I _do." Viktor winced slightly, but if she noticed, she didn't say anything. "True champions aren't always the ones that win, but those with the most guts. If you're having second thoughts, you're _never _going to get where you want to go. Have fun being a loser for the rest of eternity," she gritted out before leaving Central Hall, all eyes on her.

No one could make him feel worse than she did.

* * *

"Mr. Krum," Professor Ellestad told him on a warm April afternoon, "you've done exceptionally well in my class, more than I expected. Congratulations on your Quidditch contract, as well."

"Thank you, sir."

"I assume you'll be frequently absent from here on out, so here is the list of books for next year's Dark Arts course," he said, handing him a piece of parchment. "Please do try to stay on track with your studies while you're gone."

Viktor was confused, to say the very least. He had taken his O.W.L.s early in preparation for his departure, but he didn't know if he had passed them yet. He voiced these thoughts aloud to the professor.

"Ah, I have it on good authority that you'll be fine, and I'm assuming you're continuing with this class on the N.E.W.T. level next year." Ellestad peered at him, then smiled. "Fantastic work, Mr. Krum. I think Miss Karavelov was a good influence on you."

Viktor smiled. "I'm beginning to think so too."

* * *

"This is goodbye, then," he acknowledged, looking past the gates of the castle. It was the end of April, and time for him to begin his training with the Vultures.

"Yes," she agreed coolly, looking up at the sky. "It is."

The wind howled, blowing her midnight-black hair out of her face. _She has never been more beautiful, _he thought as he allowed himself to look at her for one last time.

"So," he choked out, his throat threatening to close up, "good... bye."

Nikolina took a step closer to him, her eyes downcast. "This is harder than I thought it would be," she muttered, before completely closing the gap and wrapping her arms around him.

Victor froze, unable to process what was happening. Yes, they had kissed multiple times, but it had always been a game she played, always something teasing, never heartfelt. Never had she condoned any kind of cuddling with him. But now, with her hugging him - he felt _warm. _Complete.

He swooped down and caught her lips with his - the first time he had ever taken the initiative to do so. She responded fervently, passionately - emotions he had never seen within her.

It felt like a farewell.

* * *

He dreamed of her.

He wasn't in love, he knew, because no one could love a girl like her - cruel, manipulative, unforgiving. He _wasn't _obsessed with her. Rather, she haunted his thoughts constantly.

_Your voice - it chased away all the sanity in me._

He heard her laugh in the wind, her sarcastic tone in the bells. A practice didn't go by in which he didn't think of her words when she told him to chase his dreams. His new friends teased him about "his girl back home," but he couldn't say anything because _she was never his. _He was hers, for sure, but it was never the other way around.

* * *

When Viktor Krum arrives at Durmstrang in November of his 6th year, he finds Nikolina Karavelov with a diamond ring on her finger.

When their eyes meet, she pauses for a fraction of a second before letting her gaze move on, her impassive mask firmly in place.

* * *

When Viktor Krum meets Hermione Granger in his 7th year, he will only think of how she is nothing like Nikolina Karavelov.

* * *

_fin._

* * *

_notes: This was my first time writing HP that was non-Rose/Scorpius, and it was also my first time writing an OC. This was written for the Triwizard Competition over at HPFC. Although this was very much outside of my comfort zone, I really did enjoy writing it. I chose the name Nikolina because it means "victory of the people", which I thought fit nicely with Viktor (victor, obviously). Yes, Durmstrang has a Dark Arts class, and I assume they take OWLs in all wizarding schools. (Interesting tidbit - Durmstrang does not accept Muggleborns). Although Durmstrang was depicted as an all-boys school in the GoF movie, in the book there is at least one Durmstrang girl that appears. Central Hall is a spinoff of the Great Hall. According to my copy of Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp, the Vrasta Vultures are a Bulgarian team that is one of the most renowned in Europe, and they have won the European Cup seven times. Nathan Pucey is my imagined older brother of Adrian Pucey. __Ellestad is a Norwegian surname. _

_Please leave a review._


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